London is burning
by Batduck
Summary: London is burning, how is America supposed to help? And will England be able to pull through?
1. Chapter 1

**London is burning**

"Are you going to eat that?" Alfred asked in an hopeful voice, looking strait at Arthurs hamburger.

"Of course I am!" said Arthur while looking down on his plate, gulping. "Just give me some time."

Alfred grumbled in response and stared sullenly at the table. It was the same thing every time England came for a visit. He hesitantly picked up his burger and started eating while America stared at the burger with something resembling love in those sky-blue eyes. To Arthur's surprise it didn't taste quite as bad as he thought it would, this was also the same every time he was on a visit, but he would never admit it. So when Alfred asked what he thought he simply said:

"You can keep your greasy hamburgers to yourself!" And then he threw the whole thing in the face of the American. He sighted inside, he was hungry, but he couldn't admit that he liked Alfred´s cooking, if so he´s life depended on it.

"Woah!" Alfred exclaimed while catching the flying burger mid-air. "Thanks a lot Iggy!" He started to chew on the burger in a manner that made Arthur turn his head away in disgust. Suddenly he felt a sting of pain from his chest and wrinkled his eyebrows. Was that London?

"Hey Arthur! Hows it going with old Francie?" Alfred asked with his mouth full of half chewed hamburger meat.

The Englishman stiffened, why would Alfred ask about Francis?

"Nothings going on with that frog that concerns me!" Arthur said with a dangerously low voice.

"Oh well, that´s not what he´s saying." Alfred looked at Arthur with eyes full of laughter.

"He is saying what now!" Arthur abruptly rose from the chair, he was not in the mood for the Frenchman´s idiotic ideas right now. He felt a headache coming on.

"Take it easy! He was just saying that..." Alfred trailed of, insecure if Arthur would explode or not.

"America, what is he saying?" Arthur looked dangerously close to reach across the table for the other man. Alfred scuffed back in his chair and swallowed, he decided to put his own safety first, despite him being a hero.

"He said that you two had been... seeing each other lately." Alfred said with a hesitant voice.

"That damn wine-drinking excuse for a man! When I get my hands on him I will... I will...I..." The Englishman stared of into the distant and raised his hand to his chest, a deep frown appearing on his face.

"Arthur?" Alfred said in an insecure voice. Did his anger finally give him a heart attack? When the other man didn't answer the american rose from his chair. The sudden movement caught Arthurs attention.

"I´m fine" He said rapidly. He quickly removed the hand that had crumpled the fabric of his t-shirt above his heart, but the pain in his eyes wasn't completely gone.

"Are you sure? What ha..."

"I said I´m fine!" Arthur cut him off. "I´m borrowing your restroom." The englishman abruptly rose from his chair.

"Well... okay." Alfred looked when the englishman turned for the corridor leading to the bathroom, concern filling his eyes. Something was wrong. He saw the man walk around the corner with stumbling steps, sweat appearing on his forehead.

Why are you so stubborn? America thought irritatingly. He started to eat his burger again. If England wanted his help, he would ask for it. But then again, he would never ask anyone for help.

America sighted and rose from the chair slowly. He could at least check on him. When he neared the bathroom door he could hear muffled moans and something sounding like... barfing?

He knocked on the door.

"England? Are you okay?" No answer. He raised his voice.

"England? Are you in there?" This time there was a sudden silence from inside.

"I'm okay, I will be out in a minute." A weak voice said.

"Arthur please open the door." Alfred furrowed his eyebrows, something was definitely wrong.

"I´m fine, so leave me alone I can take care o..." The voice was abruptly cut of by a sound sounding disturbingly much like someone throwing up. He didn't want to bulge the door in if he didn't have to, it got so messy. He sighed and picked up his mobile, what else choice did he have. He dialed the number and waited dreadfully for the owner to pick up.

"Oui? Francis speaking." Alfred couldn't hold back a shudder, there were to many disgusting memories connected to that voice.

"Hey, France. It´s me, Alfred."

"Oh, mon America!" The frenchman exclaimed with noticeable joy. "How are you?"

"Yeah I´m fine. But I called to ask you something, have you heard something strange about Eng..."

"I was just going to call you." The Frenchman cut him off. "Have you heard about England?"

"That was what I was going to ask you about!" America said angrily. "Is there something going on over there?"

"Going on and going on, the last thing I heard was that London was on fire. Are you with him? Is he okay? I would not be able to take it if mon cher is hurt..."

Alfred had stopped listen to Francis´s rambling. London? This was bad, really bad.

"Francis I need to go, I call you later."

"Non! I have to know! Is..." Alfred snapped the mobile shut. He felt a bit bad treating the other man so rude, but then he remembered it was Francis, he would be okay.

"Arthur I´m coming in!" He listened at the door but the only response was a low grunt.

America took a step back and then threw himself at the door as hard as he could, it was too hard. He landed on the floor in a heap with the remains of the door. Damn.

He scrambled free and lifted his gaze to search for the object of his concern. He saw him sitting at the floor in the corner of the room, eyes squinting at the man that just came bursting in. The Englishman was clearly in great pain and his hand clutching hard at his chest. He was drenched in sweat and had a thin line of blood sipping from the corner of his mouth.

"I told you I was fine, what do you think you are doing here?" He sputtered with clattering teeth.

"Don´t be silly." The american approached the englishman cautiously. "I know what happened, you are not fine."

At his words Arthur heaved himself off of the floor. He reached out for the sink but in his drowsy state he missed and would have fallen too the floor if it wasn't for the American. Alfred caught him with arms around the other mans chest but at the moment he touched the Englishman he flinched away, the other mans chest was burning up! At the touch Arthur let out a cry but stayed upright with considerable effort. He panted heavily while looking at the shocked American.

"I can handle myself." England panted. He started to head for the door. "I have had worse, just leave me alone and I will be..." He was cut off by a violent cough that resulted in blood sputtering from his mouth. Arthur brought his hand up to his mouth and touched his cheek.

"Shit." He mumbled, but he continued to stumble forward.

Alfred looked on, shocked. Should he help him? He was brought back from his deliberation by his mobile. He snapped it open.

"H...hello?"

"Alfred? Mon ami? Do you now how England is doing? They say the fire is spreading rapidly." France sounded really upset.

Alfred glanced over at the Englishman now leaning at the door frame, he could see burn marks spreading up above his collar.

Arthur just looked at him and shock his head. Alfred hesitated.

"He says his fine." He said slowly. His lie was rewarded by a faint smile by the Englishman and a threatening voice from the Frenshman.

"Don´t mess with me mon cher. I wan´t to know." Alfred´s eyes widened, was France threatening him?

"H...He..." Alfred looked at the now glaring englishman. He swallowed. How did it end up like this?

"He says he´s fine. I call you later."

"Don´t you dare..." He snapped the phone shut.

"I hope you have a really good excuse for that, I´m in big trouble now." He shuddered, France was a pain in the ass when you treated him kindly, how he treated a person he was mad at was something Alfred preferred not to think about.

"Thanks." Arthur said weakly, then he turned around and started to stumble out of the room.

America just stood there, staring. England actually thanked him. Now he was really worried.

He heard a thud from the hallway.

"Fuck." He said and hurried out. He saw England on the floor, sprawled out against the wall breathing heavily.

"England!" He ran to the other man, noticing that the burn marks had spread to Arthurs throat. The Englishman coughed slightly and hid breathing was labored. "Hey, England! Answer me!" He received a faint groan in response.

"Hang in there." America tried to pick the other man up in his arms to carry him upstairs where he could put him in bed, but as soon as he touched the other nation he flinched away. When he looked at his hand it was covered in ashes. England had his eyes squinted tight and the sipping of blood from his mouth had become a stream. People were dying.

Alfred cringed out of his bomber jacket and ground his teeth together. He picked the smaller man up with the jacket as a safety layer in between but he could still feel the warmth radiating from the other man as from a fire.

"P...Put...Me...D...Down." England managed to say in between the coughing and chattering of teeth.

America didn't even bother answering but just kept on hurrying for the bedroom upstairs.

When he reached the bed Arthur´s head lolled loosely and when Alfred put him down on the soft beddings he uttered a silent whimper. The American´s eyes was starting to fill with panic as he tried to shake some life into the unconscious Englishman.

"Arthur!" He shook the man´s shoulders. "Hey, wake up!" He drew back his hand and slapped the other man across the face. England let out a small wince and his eyes fluttered open.

"Thank god." America muttered.

"A...Alfred?" Arthur´s eyes flickered across the room, unable too focus.

"Yeah, I´m here." He took England's hand and saw the other man relax a bit before he suddenly began gasping from air and clawing the bed with his free hand. The hand in Alfred´s grip grasped his with incredible force and combined with the increasingly amount of heat radiating from it the American wasn't able to hold back a small cry of pain. But he didn't withdraw it. Arthurs eyes started rolling back in his head and Alfred looked on in panic, what was he supposed to do?

Chapter 1 – Finished!

This is my first attempt at a fanfic so reviews and tips are gratefully accepted.

I don't know if I should continue on this story... If you have any ideas how to continue the story, please tell me!


	2. Chapter 2

**London is burning**

Thanks so much for all your support! I'm really happy that so many seem to enjoy my story :D I will try not to disappoint you~

**Chapter 2**

When he felt Arthurs hand go limp he rose from his sitting position beside the bed.

He started pacing in the room.

"Come on Alfred, you are the Hero, you will solve this! Just think... Think!" he mumbled to himself in a futile attempt to sooth his nerves. After a while he started to get annoyed at a disturbing sound, besides from Arthur's laboured breathing he could hear the melody of... God bless America? He stopped and furrowed his brows in confusion before realisation hit him, his cellphone! He hurriedly picked it up and flipped it open.

"Y-Yeah.. Hello?" He asked in a stressed voice.

"Alfred?" An irritated voice that broke sharply on french said on the other side of the line.

"That's the name of the hero!" America tried to sound unaffected, the last thing he wanted right now was for France to come over.

"I know what happened to l'Angleterre, and I'm not going to sit back and just watch, I'm coming over." The Frenchman ignored Americas failed attempt to hide his stress. "Vous are at your place right, Amérique? And I expect an honest answer." Francis voice left no room for arguments and America felt himself swallow hard before giving in, he didn't have the time nor the energy to argue with France right now.

"Yeah, we are at my place..." He hesitated. "...France, what am I supposed to do?" He didn't really believe the words that came out of his mouth, he could take care of things himself! But at the same time he was stressed, confused, tired and scared. He just needed to hear a comforting and familiar voice telling him that it would be fine.

The only sound coming from the phone was France's breathing, after a while a much softer voice said "Don't worry, I'm sure he will be okay. I'm hurrying over so just keep him safe until then."

"Sure thing! You don't need to hurry, I have everything under control!" America laughed in an attempt at hiding his earlier weakness, he didn't need help! He was the Hero after all.

"Of course you do." Francis chuckled. "I'm coming as fast as I can." He said and then hung up.

"Sure." America said slowly and then lowered the phone slowly while avoiding looking at the bed where England was lying. He sighed heavily and just stared at the wall in front of him. "Sure thing..." He muttered.

His thoughts were cut of by a strangled gasp from the bed behind him and he turned around with an alarmed expression on his face. When his eyes landed on the bed he saw an Englishman trying to prop himself up against the headboard with thick brows heavily furrowed in a look of pain and concentration.

America hurried over and put a hand on the other nations shoulder, at the contact the other blonde flinched and his head whipped up to meet the worried blue that were gazing down on him. Arthur opened his mouth to speak but the only thing that came out was another strangled gasp and at the same time the Englishman lost his sudden rush of strength and he plopped back down on the bed.

"You need to take it easy." Alfred said with a voice filled with concern.

Arthur just glared at him. America let out another heavy sight and took a seat on the bedside next to England.

"I...You...If you need anything, let me know, kay?" America tried to smile as convincing and soothing as he could.

"I don't need your help I..." When England saw the hurt in Americas eyes he trailed of. He smiled weakly and his eyes softened and he spoke in a raspy voice "It's fine lad, I feel perfectly fi..." Suddenly Arthur stopped short and his eyes wen't distant.

"Eh... England? Are you okay?"

"No...no...no...no, no... NO!" The Englishman didn't seem to notice the American beside him and just stared straight ahead with a mortified expression. Suddenly he jerked up and sprang from the bed with raw panic in his eyes,

"We need to save them! They will die!" He started walking towards the door.

"What are you talking about?" America panicked "Calm down!" He tried to grab England around his waist but flinched at the heat. "You need to lie down!" He pleaded with Arthur who just kept on stumbling, fully determined to help his people.

"I need to save them, save them. It will blow up, the fire is too close... too close. Save them! Go away... no not there, the other way! It's too late... Don't explode, please...please... The other way" England kept on mumbling, he was almost at the doorframe when his knees buckled under him.

"Arthur!" Alfred ran to his side bur was careful not to touch him. "Hey man! Answer me!"

"It's okay, I'm just tired." The Englishman panted. Alfred let out a relieved sight that Arthur was contactable.

"No, you are not. You shouldn't even be up!" The american tried to plead with the man "Can you please go back to bed, just rest for a while."

"I can't! They need my help and, besides, I've had worse." Arthur started to try and stand up again, but just ended up falling and landing on his butt. "Ouch!"

"Hey, hey! Take it easy! Nice and slow, I'm a hero, I will help you." He tried to sound as calm as he could but the impact was lost when he let out a nervous chuckle.

"I don't need your help!" The englishman hissed. "And if I don't get them away from there, they will die!" His voice sounded strangled, as if he tried not to cry.

"Away from were?" Alfred was puzzled, the fire was more or less under control now right? Otherwise England wouldn't be able to move around. So what could he be referring to?

"The ammunition depot you git! What else?" Arthur heaved himself of the floor with a heavy grunt while Alfred took in the news. The ammunition depot. Fuck. If the fire reached it, the explosion would shake the whole city of London.

"J...Just...Just take it easy! It will be okay, the fire won't reach that far. I'm sure your people have it under control!" He tried to reassure the Englishman.

"Of course they have it under control you wanker!" England looked sourly at America. "But that doesn't mean that it can't happen." Through all the chaos America was happy that Arthur seemed to feel a bit better and was able to talk as usual, if you disregarded the fact that his voice was sounding as an old scratched record.

"Yeah you're right, but you're too far away to help and right now you need to rest." He reached out for the Englishman but stopped short when he remembered the scorching heat radiating from said person. England looked at him suspiciously "What is it?"

"What is what?" America tried to talk himself out of it, not wanting to admit that he was reluctant to help because he didn't wan't to hurt himself. He was the Hero, and Heroes wasn't afraid of pain!

"Am I that scary?" England asked mockingly while slowly walking back towards the bed, to tired to come up with more excuses to stay out of the inviting sheets.

"I'm not scared of you! It's just that you... you are too hot." Arthur almost tripped over his own feet when he heard the American. "W...Wh...WHAT!" He stuttered and his whole face turned bright read.

"No! No! No! I didn't mean it like hot, hot! I mean that you are hot, temperature like! You know, the fire!" America tried to smooth his earlier mistake over while his face decided to try and compete with England's in how dark red it could get. "Ehehehe, what did you think I was referring to?"

"Nothing, I was just... It was an after-reaction to the fire." He mumbled and turned around.

"Aw, how cute! Just wait till France gets here, he will laugh his ass of!" England whipped his head around and his eyes flared dangerously "Until who gets here?"

"Ah... Eh... Francis..." Alfred took a few steppes back as Arthur's face grew alarmingly red, from anger this time. "I couldn't stop him! And besides I..." He cut himself of, he couldn't admit that he didn't have a clue what he was supposed to do in a situation like this.

"And besides what America?" England growled threateningly. Everyone seemed to threat America today, he was fed up with it, it wasn't his fault that he accidentally said things he didn't wan't to. He sighted heavily and shrugged.

"I didn't know what to do when you just passed out on me."

"Oh." England looked troubled. "I...Ah... Guess it's fine. Thanks for your help."

America looked shocked. England just said thanks. To him. To Alfred F Jones.

"What's with that look git? Have your hamburgers given you a stroke?" The Englishman chuckled, witch resulted in a coughing fit.

"Very funny, old man. Now lie down and get some rest." America approached the bed while a small smile crept on his face. It was going to be alright.

"I'm not old you wanker!" England growled as he crawled into the bed.

"Fine fine, you'r right, don't strain yourself" America started laughing.

"Bloody right, I'm always right." Arthur muttered as he closed his eyes "Bloody right."

Alfred chuckled as he settled himself in a chair beside the bed, maybe he would be able to get some sleep now that things had calmed down.

And that's chapter 2 for you!

This was a bit less depressing than the first one, but to all angst-lovers: Don't worry! I'm not done yet ;

I just felt the need of a little more... story in the story xD


	3. Chapter 3

**London is burning**

**Chapter 3**

When America woke up it it was dark. He stretched and looked around the room, were was he? And why was he sleeping in a chair?

Then he remembered the days events and directly got up.

"Iggy, are you okay!" He looked at the bed in front of him and exhaled in relief, Arthur was sleeping. How long had he been out for? He glanced at the clock: 23:20. So he hadn't been sleeping for more than half an hour. He yawned and decided to take the opportunity to study the other man because, well, he was injured. And Alfred just wanted to check if he was alright, or at least that was what he was telling himself.

Arthur's breathing was still laboured, but more normal than before as they should have had time to take control of the the fire by now. However, the burn marks on the Englishman's chest was still there, witch they would be until they rebuild the city. There were still some blood on Arthurs cheek so Alfred stretched his hand forward and quickly wiped it of, surprised at the coolness of the others skin. Maybe the fires had completely gone out?

America felt relief wash through him and he decided that he would go down and make some food. He was hungry!

As he got down to the kitchen he started warming the hamburgers from last night since they didn't get to finish them. If it was something he enjoyed it was the smell of hamburgers, it always seemed to soothe his nerves. As he flipped the last one over he could feel his pocket vibrate. He took his cellphone out and flipped it open. It was a text message from France.

Bonjour Amérique!

My plane is arriving at 6 AM, so I will be at your place at 8 at the latest. Just hold on.

Beaucoup d'amour / Francis

That's right, France was on his way. America felt his shoulders slump a bit and sighted, things always got a lot more complicated when the Frenchman was around, lucky thing the flight was a long one. He turned towards the stove again and started to halfheartedly flip the burgers onto some bread. He chewed lazily and turned on the TV, maybe he could get a view at the harm done to London if he watched the news.

As the pictures filled the screen, he felt his stomach turn to ice.

Everything was black; burned houses, burned streets and soot, soot covered everything that wasn't burned and made the whole city look black, even the air.

Alfred suddenly lost his appetite and raised the remote to turn the horrible broadcast of but something on the screen made him freeze; The reporter was screaming something about an ammunition depot on fire and everyone started running in different directions, desperate to get away from the approaching explosion.

Suddenly there were a pained scream from upstairs and America dropped the remote on the floor as he turned towards the stairs, turning away from the sudden blast of light and screams filling the screen.

Alfred sprinted for the stairs and took them three at a time, he ran down the corridor and burst into the bedroom. But as soon as he entered the room, he froze.

At first, all he could do was stare. Stare at the Englishman kneeling on the floor, stare at the increasing pool of blood surrounding him, stare at the pained and horrified face on the other nation and stare on the large, gaping wound on the other mans chest.

Then he heard England let out another strangled scream as he crumbled to the floor, and before America even registered what was happening, he was kneeling in the blood by Arthur's side and shaking the Brit by the shoulders. Heat once again radiated from the other mans body but America just shrugged it of, he needed to concentrate.

"Hey! Arthur! Man, what happened? Are you okay?" He could hear himself panic. What happened? England was fine just a moment ago!

The only response he got from the other man was a strangled gurgle as more blood poured from his lips.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" America didn't know what to do, so he did the only thing he could come up with; trying to make Arthur as comfortable he could without moving him to much. He put the Brits head in his lap and tried to think of a reasonable course of actions.

The most logical explanation would be that the ammunition depot had blown up, but how was that possible if the fire had been under control? Maybe they had missed to extinguish a small fire close to the depot?

No! He needed to concentrate on the current situation! He could ponder on the subject later.

"Arthur? Arthur can you hear me?" Alfred avoided to look at the large wound on the Englishman's chest, how big had the explosion been?

When he got no answer he started to sob. How did it end up like this? He didn't wan't to be the only one there, were was everyone?

His thoughts were interrupted by a wet sounding cough from Arthur, and Alfred could feel the other mans body convulsing in the effort as he coughed up an alarming amount of blood and sucked in a gulp of air. It sounded very much like a human trying to breath underwater, and Alfred could see him struggling for every precious ounce of air.

America fussed over Arthurs body, trying, in vain, to ease the pain. Every time he touched the Brit he would quickly withdraw his hand due to the heat, and each time his hand got more and more covered in soot.

A hero shouldn't feel this useless!

Finally he set for just holding the other mans hand and squeezing it reassuringly, ignoring the heat.

"You are going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine. You said so yourself, right? You've had worse. You won't die so easily." He talked more to reassure himself than the man on the floor who barely showed any sign of being conscious by now except for an occasional wet cough.

America tried to think rationally, he should try to stop the blood-flow. He carefully placed England's head on the floor and started for the first aid kit he had in his bathroom, that would have to do considering the fact that he didn't have much else to work with, he didn't usually get hurt. When he got to the cabinet above the sink he quickly grabbed the box containing different medical equipments and hurried back into his bedroom.

He slowly bent down beside the Englishman and opened the box. Inside there were a lot of different gauzes and patches, he choose the biggest looking gauze and stared at it; he had never done anything like this before, how should he start? "By removing England's shirt" the still functioning part of his brain said, and he complied. Shuffling a little closer towards Arthur's still body he hesitantly reached out a hand and held it right above the big red splotch on his chest, he could feel the heat radiating from the wound as from a real fire. As he quickly started to unbutton the other man's shirt, as to not burn himself, he tried to concentrate on what he should do next, and not on the bare chest underneath his hand, the chest that was... "Jesus!" America exclaimed and sucked in a sharp breath, trying to keep himself from shying away. Arthur's chest was almost completely cowered in burn-marks and as he watched he could see them spreading even more.

Hadn't the fire been under control?

A small wince brought Alfred back to reality as he realised that his hand were slightly touching Arthur's chest and he quickly withdraw it, both in fear of doing anything that would leave Arthur in more pain and because of the terrible heat.

He started to try to wind the gauze around the Englishman's chest without touching him too much, but this proved to be a hard and painful task, both for America and England.

When he was done his hands were completely covered in soot and numb from the heat and Arthur was breathing heavily and the rasping sound was eating up at Americas nerves. The gauze looked like a fail attempt at making an zombie, and Alfred knew that it wasn't going to help much but at the time being it was the best he could do and at least he had done something.

He sighted and sat back wondering if he should attempt to lift Arthur up and put him back in bed, but considering the pain in his hands he doubted that he would be able to hold on for so long. Instead he took the blanket from the bed and placed it over the half-conscious

Englishman. At the feeling of something being placed on top of him Arthur's eyes fluttered open and he looked around the room trying to focus on something.

"Arthur? How are you feeling?" He knew the question was stupid, but he didn't care, he just wanted the Brit to answer. When he spoke Arthurs eyes fixed on his face but he didn't say anything, instead he just laid there breathing heavily.

"Arthur?" America bent down beside the Englishman and spoke again "Can you hear me?"

Arthur just nodded slightly, not wanting to waste any oxygen on speaking. Alfred nodded with understanding but started to get worried as England's eyes started to close. Alfred quickly grabbed Arthur's shoulder and shook it "England? Are you okay?"

England just let out a small grunt and mumbled something that sounded like "...want...sleep... shut up... git" Despite the dire situation Alfred couldn't keep himself from giggling and he earned a glare from the other man and a small puff that he think was supposed to be angry.

"Yeah, you just rest and heal. Leave it up to the hero to take care of you!" And then Alfred flashed a grin that didn't look as confident as he hoped, but he tried to compensate with giving a thumbs up. England just huffed and closed his eyes leaving America without any idea about what he should do.

And...that's the third chapter! :D

Hope you like it~

Beaucoup d'amour = Lots of love

I'm not French, but apparently google translate is.


	4. Chapter 4

**London is burning**

Sorry for the long wait but here is the fourth chapter, I hope you like it!

The chapter is a bit slow, but I think it's necessary not to rush through these kind of events, personally I hate stories in which the plot is just rushed forward without much regard to the characters reactions. All in all I hope you will forgive me for my slowness, I will try to do better in later chapters! .

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Hetalia nor it's awesomeness.

**Chapter 4**

Alfred glanced at the clock, just 7 hours until Francis arrival.

The Englishman slept soundly in his lap but Alfred was too restless to get any rest, let alone any sleep. Why had the deposit exploded? And what was he supposed to do?

His thoughts were disturbed by his phone ringing, as he bent down to pick it up Arthur mumbles something in his sleep. Alfred petted him on the head and flipped the phone open.

"Hel.."

"America!" A voice on the other end interrupted him. "I heard about the explosion, is he alright?" A very stressed voice with a french accent.

"Eh.. yeah. Somewhat" America answered avoidably.

"Somewhat? Tell me the truth or I swear I will..."

"Yeah, yeah, fine! He's not good, but he's sleeping. So I guess it's okay."

"He's sleeping? That's good..." The voice trailed of in thoughts.

"Um... France?"

"Oui?"

"I have never really treated anything like this. What am I supposed to do? I mean I have tried to put some pressure on to ease the pain but I don't think it's doing much good."

"Mon Dieu Alfred..., didn't you learn anything from when Washington was on fire?" Francis sighted.

"Well, I wasn't really aware of what was happening at the time..." Alfred answered a bit annoyed.

"Sorry, sorry. But the first thing you should think about is that when stuff like this happens to... one of us... it's not like an ordinary burn. To relieve some pain you can try putting on something cold, even if it won't help the healing progress. I propose that you put our little Angleterre in some cold water."

"In some cold water, got it!" America felt much more relieved now that he had something specific to do, something that might actually help.

"Try not to do something reckless or stupid" France said in an admonishing tone "I will be over in just a few hours, try to get him to eat something so that he can regain his strength."

"Okay, okay. See you!" Alfred snapped the phone shut and looked down on the still sleeping Englishman in his lap.

"Well then! Let's get you into the bathtub."

He carefully removed the Brits head from his lap and rose slowly, careful with his protesting legs, a remainder not to sit in cramped positions for too long. As he made his way to the bathroom he took the chance to wash himself up, he was covered in soot.

When he was acceptably clean Alfred started to fill the bathtub with cold water and felt a chill run down his spine at the thought of bathing in it. In the part of his brain that wasn't completely overtook by worry for Arthur, he couldn't help but feel a bit of expectation as to se the other mans reaction when he felt the cold water in the tub.

He walked back to the bedroom and approached the still sleeping Englishman on the floor.

He reached down to shake the other man awake, but hesitated. Maybe it was better to let Arthur sleep? He needed to rest and, well, the burn-marks could wait.

Alfred settled with trying to make the time pass until England woke up by himself, this resulted in a lot of pacing and grumbling and in the end, some more food-making.

When he had finished his, was it breakfast? He had lost most sense of time at this point, he made his way back upstairs and was met by the sight of a still sleeping Englishman. Alfred sighted and sat down besides the man on the floor. He grabbed Arthurs hand and felt relief wash through him when he registered the coolness of said hand, maybe the explosion hadn't been so bad after all... After a while he noticed that he had started singing softly to the other man, a lullaby Arthur often sang to him when he were a child.

"_Tell the harpies that land on your bed post_

_That at the count of five you'll roast them alive_

_Tell the devil it's time you gave him his due_

_He should go back to hell, he should shake in his shoes_

_Cause the mightiest, scariest, creature is you_

_I won't tell you, there's nothing 'neath your bed_

_I won't sell you, that it's all in your head_

_This world of ours is not as it seems_

_The monsters are real but they're not in your dreams_

_Learn what you can from the beasts you defeat, _

_you'll need it for some of the people you meet_

_Goodnight demon slayer, goodnight_

_Now its time to close your tired eyes_

_There are devils to slay and dragons to ride_

_If they see you coming, hell they better hide_

_Goodnight, goodnight, goodnight_

_Goodnight my little slayer goodnight"_

Even thought the song itself was depressing it gave Alfred hope that Arthur had the strength to fight what was happening in London, whatever it was.

When he had finished singing the englishman started to stir and America, who was tired of waiting, lightly shook his shoulder to prevent him from falling back asleep.

"Hey... Iggy... Wake up..." America tried to sound as calm and collected as possible too avoid scaring the other man further. Arthur slowly opened his eyes and looked confusedly around the room. Pain was still evident in his eyes and he coughed slightly while he searched the room with empty eyes. When England didn't seem to notice Alfred, said man leaned in over Arthur and said mockingly "I'm over here. Did you have a good sleep or what? Hard to wake up?" He tried to laugh his worry off, but the feeling only intensified when England knotted his eyebrows and turned his head towards the nation leaning over him but still didn't focus his eyes on the other man.

"America?" England asked uncertainly with a very tired-sounding voice. "Why is it dark? What time is it?"

Alfred was completely taken aback by the question. Why it was dark? Well it obviously wasn't, seeing the lights in the room were on. "The time is 1 AM and... um... well.. it's not dark?" America trailed of, uncertain if the Britt was joking.

"What are you talking about? Of course it is, it's pitch dark in here! Will you turn some lights on please?" England regained some strength in his voice but in return he started coughing violently when he had finished talking.

"Are you serious?" America said silently, a terrifying suspicion rising in his chest while he patted the other nation comfortingly on the back. "Take it easy old man, you shouldn't push yourself to hard."

"I'm fine. I'm fine." England said with a faint voice, waving Americas hand of. As he tried to push himself up in a sitting position he found his arms alarmingly weak and was about to fall back down when he felt strong arms grab his waist. He hissed at the stabbing pain the contact resulted in and instinctively tried to push the hand away. This would have been so much easier with some damn light!

When Alfred registered the others pain and the attempt at pushing his arms away he quickly let go of the other man, which resulted in a sudden, but short, free-fall for the Englishman back down to a laying position.

As Arthur hit the floor a small cry off pain escaped his lips but was quickly followed by sharp coughs. Alfred tried to fight back the feelings of guilt as he fuzzed over the other man, not willing to risk hurting him again by touching him.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry! Are you okay? Iggy?"

After a while the Britt's coughing died down and he relaxed a bit were he lay on the floor with tightly shut eyes just breathing heavily.

America had never in his whole life felt so utterly useless. He always made the wrong moves in his attempts at helping his former caretaker and instead of helping the other man, he always made things worse. He decided that it couldn't be to risky to take the others hand, right? And in that way he could also comfort the other man. That's what a real hero would have done!

At the feeling of someone grabbing his hand England slowly opened his eyes and blinked them warily while looking around him once more.

"...Why is it so dark...?" He grumbled silently and then added in a more audible voice "Can you please turn the lights on?"

"But England, the lights ARE on..." America said with mock humour in his voice, the suspicion in his chest growing in strength as the seconds passed by.

"I'm really not in the mood for one of your pranks Alfred F Jones!" England said grumpily but in an uncharacteristically weak voice.

"I'm not pranking you old man!" Came the defiant answer from the accused nation "It's totally light in here." At this revelation the Englishman furrowed his eyebrows and a look of uncertainty came over him. Once again the man on the floor blinked his eyes and yet again they seemed to be focused on nothing at all, but America could see that they were filled with pain, pain the other nation tried desperately to hide.

England was quiet for a while and just opened and closed those clouded green eyes while America did his best to think up a way to put his suspicion into words but didn't come up with a heroic enough way, after all he did wan't to reassure England the best he could without lying. England suddenly gave a small cough and opened his mouth "Well, that's not good." America stared at the other nation in bewilderment at the others seemingly calm attitude towards all this "Eh... No it's not good." America felt uncertain on how to continue when he suddenly remembered the cold bath waiting for them in the bathroom. "Do you want something cold to ease the pain?"

"It's not that bad" England said and tried to laugh it away which only resulted in another coughing fit, this one sounded a lot wetter than the last and Alfred feared that the other man would start coughing up blood again.

"Okay, okay, I believe you. Just relax." America gave up on the idea of a bath for now, seeing that that other was too weak to move about properly. He then realized that they were still positioned on the floor. "Do you think you can move over to the bed?"

"Of course I can, I'm not handicapped! Just turn the bloody lights on!" America just sighted and mumbled something about stupid stubborn old Brits which England of course heard.

"I can hear you you know!" As he said this he attempted to stand up once again and got to the point where he was actually standing up in a crouching position when America registered the fact that he had moved, but when he did it was already to late. Arthur let out a series of hard coughs and his whole body trembled with pain and with the effort required to stand upright. The Brit doubled over even more and after another series of coughing the stunned American on the floor saw small droplets of red escaping the others mouth. Alfred shot to his feet when the coughing man started swaying dangerously where he stood.

"Arthur! Just try to relax, everything is fine!" He was hesitant if he should touch the other man, what if the touch inflicted more pain than it could help? America battered his brain, what would a hero do? While he was still trying to figure out the best course of actions, the other man suddenly tipped over and fell.

Dudududuu~

I have an unhealthy obsession with cliffhangers xD

I would love to get some reviews/tips! I'm here to learn :P

Sorry for the characters ooc-ness, I will try my best but they need to fit in the story as well ;_;

The "lullaby" is _Goodnight, Demonslayer _by Voltaire.

The Burning of Washington was an incident were english troops, year 1814, burned down several buildings in Americas capital as a response to the previous Burning of York, Canada, carried out by Americans year 1813.


	5. Chapter 5

**London is burning**

Sorry for the long wait, there were a lot to do in school before the summer vacation and after that I had a looong time with no motivation...at all... But now I'm back and I will try to upload more often! :D

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or anything nearly as awesome.

**Chapter 5**

Alfred instinctively reached out to catch the falling Englishman and got a grip around his chest just as he was about to hit the ground.

As Alfred caught the other man he was surprised by the lack of reaction he got and unconsciously loosened his grip as to not hurt him.

The coughing had subsided and the briton now just lay in Alfred's arms and breathed heavily. He carefully lifted the Brit up bridal-style and put him on the bed. Better to have a descent place to sleep it of, right? Besides, Arthur would be mad at him when he realized that Alfred had allowed him to sleep on the floor, it was not appropriate of a gentleman to do so. At that thought Alfred smiled a little, he would never admit it but he longed for the time when Arthur would wake up and scold him.

As he pulled the covers up over the other man he got met by weak mumbles and attempts at showing it of. Of course, he must still be very warm. But when America felt his forehead he was taken aback as to how cold it felt. Was that really right? How fast were people able to put out a fire as big as that one?

As America stared at the unconscious Englishman and tried to figure it all out the other man started to stir. Damn! I can't think strait right now, I need to talk to someone... All the nations names flew by in his head, but there was only really two options; His brother Canada or Francis. Deciding to not upset his brother he picked the French option, even if he really didn't want to get in any kind of debt with said nation he would have the best chances of helping him now without him having to explain the whole situation from the beginning.

He picked up the phone and started dialing the number with, to his annoyance, slightly shaky hands. When he heard someone answer on the other side of the line he sucked in a deep breath and began.

"Hey! Francis I'm glad you picked up! You see, I have this little problem right now. Eh, the thing is that England kind of seems to be... blind. And before you ask, I haven't done anything to him! When he woke up he just started complaining that everything was dark and it totally wasn't! And then he never really saw me even when I was standing right in front of him and then he fell on the floor. Okay, that was kind of my fault. But! I didn't know that he was going to get up so I did..." Here he had to stop to suck in a shaky breath and before he could continue Francis interrupted him "Amerique! You have to talk slower, you don't make any sense!"

"Oh... Yeah right. Sorry about that" America took a couple of big breaths to calm himself down. "Well, the main point is that Arthur seems to be blind and I don't have a clue as to why that would happen."

"The communications are down." Francis stated bluntly.

"What?" Alfred asked in confusion, what were he talking about?

"England's government has cut down all communications with other countries. Everything is down, TV, papers and the telephone net, even the boarders are closed. They are totally isolated. They have made a deal with several companies so they don't even have internet right now." France explained patiently.

Well that would explain Arthurs lack of sight but why would they do something like that?

"Nobody can even get through to the president." The Frenchman continued. "The nation has declared an emergency state."

"But..." America started. "But that means that..."

"Oui. Angleterre won't be able to see for the time being, not until they reopens the communication.

"Why would they do something like that? They are just delaying the time it would take to recover from this. No one will be able to help him!" America was starting to get really upset now, how could they be so ignorant!

"Alfred! Pour l'amour de dieux, calm down!" America calmed his breathing and felt a bit silly over his fit.

"Sorry Francis, I'm just a bit tired, that's all."

"Oui oui, I can understand that, this can't be easy for you." France said soothingly. "But listen now, the reason as to why they cut all communication is because this was so serious. I talked to a... friend... in England a little while ago and he said that the whole country is scared as to who would do something like this, no one knows who the culprit is."

"But how is that possible? An attack this big is sure to leave at least several traces behind, it's not that easy to cover up!" America heard a light cough on the other end of the line and suddenly realized that he had started screaming again. He glanced over at the still unmoving body of the Englishman to see if he had woken him up but the other man just continued to sleep as if he couldn't hear a thing. America hoped to god that that wasn't the case.

"Sorry, sorry" He said to France. "But why would they shut down all the communication just because they can't find out who the culprit is?"

"My guess would be that they feel the need not for people in the public to spread rumors and false traces all over the place."

"Ah, I can see that. But isn't it all a bit drastic?"

"Yeah, you are right, but I don't think the government had time to think about that during all this. I bet that the restrictions will be lifted in a short while." Francis said reassuringly.

"I guess you are right..." America trailed of, looking at the man in his bed. "Do you think he will be okay?" He hated how pathetic he sounded right then, but he couldn't help it, he just felt so lost in all this.

"I bet my finest wine that he will be up and running around cursing in no time, he is to stubborn to stay in bed for a longer period of time." France said with what he hoped sounded like a certain voice. No one outside the country knew how severe this really was.

"You're right!" America felt his hope rise again, how could he have thought anything despite the Englishman getting up soon? "See you in..." He glanced at the clock on the bed table "3 hours!" As America flipped the phone closed he felt genuinely more positive to the whole situation. He knew the Brit, he would get better in no time!

He turned around to face the Englishman in his bed and suddenly his newly developed smile faltered. Arthur was breathing hoarsely and sweating profoundly. During the time it took for Alfred to walk closer to the bed he noticed that the others man's breathing got even more labored and the time passing between every intake of air got longer and longer. He hesitantly moved closer and put a hand above Arthur's lips. The feeling of air being blowed from the other man's mouth was nearly insignificant and America felt his good mood go out the window. Of course it couldn't be that easy for England to heal after this.

He tried to rise the other man out of unconsciousness so that he could get him to breathe right but the other man didn't even move a muscle when he slapped him across the face, witch Alfred directly regretted seeing the red mark that formed on the other's cheek.

He started to feel panicked again, how much stress could a ordinary human... no, scratch that, nation take before they had a mental breakdown? America realized that he had no real idea of what to do when someone stopped breathing, except the CPR technique he had been forced to learn from England himself so long time ago, witch by the way was a very disturbing memory.

Suddenly he got an idea, England had tones of books and one of them were bound to be able to help him. Luckily for him Arthur had a giant bookshelf in his bedroom so he didn't need to go far away from the nearly no-breathing man in his bed. He started to rummage around in the bookshelves in the hope of finding a book about medicine that could help him. After a while of fruitless searching he let out a groan of frustration and heaved two volumes from the series "_How to communicate with the forgotten spirits of your kitchen_" on the floor. How could something so unimportant take up place in England's bookshelf right now? He stalked angrily to the Englishman's bed and looked down on him worriedly. At first he thought the other man had stopped breathing completely during the time he was gone, but after a few long seconds he saw a shallow rise of the other man's chest and he let out a breath witch he didn't known he had held. He sat down beside Arthur on the bed and felt the others forehead again, he couldn't think of anything else to do. He was glad to feel that the others temperature hadn't risen, but on the other hand it wasn't completely down to normal. He sighted and looked at Arthurs face, and froze. There was something black sipping out of the Englishman's mouth. Something looking alarmingly much like sooth mixed with blood. Alfred felt his heart sink when he thought about what was probably the reason behind this, the smoke. After a fire and an explosion like that the city must be filled with smoke and sooth.

Alfred came to a disturbing realization, the soothe and blood must be suffocating Arthur. He felt for a breath again but this time he didn't feel anything on the palm of his hand and when he felt for a pulse in the others wrist he could only feel an irregular flutter.

Don't knowing what to do, Alfred settled with trying to get the Englishman in a recovery position to free his airway. This proved to be harder than he thought because of the Brit's unresponsive body, but finally he was able to get him laying right.

As he tipped Arthurs chin up an alarmingly big amount of the sooth-blood mixture came running out of his mouth and America had no problem at all as to understand why he wasn't able to breath. He took the Englishman's hand and held it tight more to comfort himself than the man he was grabbing on to. He heard a gurgling noise from the other nation and he looked up with hopeful eyes, maybe he was fee... Alfred stopped in his thoughts and felt his heart go cold. England's eyes were not supposed to flutter like that, right? And his eyes were not supposed to roll back into his head, right? He felt a faint squeeze from the hand he was holding and prayed to god that it was all just part of the other man waking up. He squeezed back reassuringly and hoped that this would all soon be over, but then Arthur squeezed his hand again, much harder this time. And again, and again. Now Alfred saw that his other hand was also clawing at the fabric of the bed and the man was still making guttural sounds from the back of his throat. The blood and sooth were bubbling up from his mouth and suddenly he jerked his head back. Alfred rose in alarm, "Arthur? Whats wrong Arthur?"

The only answer he got was a kicking leg and an increased pressure from the hand grabbing his. "Arthur what's going on?" Now he was really scared.

Pour l'amour de dieux- For gods sake

Please review, I wan't to get better! And the reviews are what keeps me going :

I'm so sorry for their OOC-ness!

I just realized that I'm making Francis the "mother" in this story, but I needed one, so why not? Even if the thought kind of disturbs me...

As to why the other nations hasn't called to check up on our Arthur is because all their phones are broken! No, I just couldn't bring myself to get so off track with the story, which I would have done if I were to describe everyones reaction. You will have to do with this for now~~ Fusososo


	6. Chapter 6

**London is burning**

**Chapter 6**

Suddenly the other man's back arched painfully high and he started to shake uncontrollably.

He tried to pry England to the bed to prevent him from hurting himself, but the other man was much stronger then he looked. America had to use all his strength to just keep him from falling of the bed. Alfred could feel tears starting to fall, he had no idea off what you should do in a situation like this.

He looked at the convulsing form of his former caretaker and suddenly he felt determination rise inside. He had to act now, he knew that. If Arthur was going to make it he had to do something.

Okay, deep breaths. First off all he had to make sure that Arthur could breathe properly. When reaching this conclusion Alfred mustered all off his strength and pressed down hard on the other mans chest, trying to force the blood that was blocking his airways out.

This action resulted in a wheezing sound from the Englishman and a cracking sound from his chest. Shit. America stopped and just stared down at the man who now had a broken rib. At least he coughed up some blood, if that was something good.

America winced at the thought of having to repeat the abuse he had just put England through, but he knew that the only way to save him was to get his airways free, he would have to worry about the ribs later.

He repeated the pushing motion on Arthur's chest and managed to get an impressive amount of blood out. When he had done this a couple of times the blood-flow decreased and America breathed a sigh of relief. He then proceeded to pick up his phone to call Francis, he felt sure that this wasn't over yet. As he started dialling the number he glanced down at the Englishman. Who still wasn't breathing. Who were still convulsing. He cursed loudly and dropped the phone, reaching for Arthurs shoulders.

"Arthur! Can you hear me?" He started shaking the other man, trying to will him conscious. "Arthur!" When he didn't get any response he realised that he had to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He reluctantly bent down and pinched the other man's nose. He had never done this before and, as phony as it sounds, it felt like he was violating the unconscious man. He took a deep breath and blowed.

To his great relief the other man made a half coughing, half gurgling sound and started to hack up blood. America helped the other man sit up and pressed on his back to help him get the liquid up. When Arthur stopped spluttering up blood and sooth he sagged against Alfred's arms, unconscious again. America breathed a sigh of relief, at least he was breathing.

"...ello? ...llo? Hello? Alfred?" America looked around confused, what was that sound? He then remembered his phone which he had thrown on the ground. He picked the phone up and answered in a thick voice.

"Yeah, hello?"

"Alfred! What happened? When I picked up there was no one there, just a lot of strange sounds... Did something happen?" Francis sounded worried.

"No, no, no, it's fine now." America said distractingly, looking over at the still unconscious Englishman.

"What's fine? ….Alfred? ….Alfred, answer me!" Francis started to sound more annoyed now, and a bit scared.

"Arthur's fine. He had some sort of fit, lack of oxygen I think. But he is breathing now."

"What? What happened? Is he alright?

"Yeah, I told you, he's fine. Or at least I think he is. He's still unconscious."

"Well, that's not good. You should try to wake him up."

"But he needs the rest! And besides, I don't think I'm able to wake him up."

"Pour some cold water on him if you have to! Yes, he needs to rest but he can do that later, we have to find out if he's alright."

"Well okay, then. I will call you back as soon as I know."

"Do that, and don't forget about it!" Francis said threateningly.

"I won't." Alfred answered and snapped the phone shut.

Ice water, huh? Despite the situation, Alfred felt a smirk creeping over his face.

He sowly set the bucked down beside the bed, careful not to spill any of the cold water on the floor.

He carefully shook Arthurs shoulders to see if he had woken up. No reaction.

Alfred gave a long sight and picked up the bucket. He carefully held it above the still Englishman. When he started tipping it forward he observed the first drop fall with great interest, closely followed by hundreds more. The sound the water made when it hit Arthurs face would have been something he would normally laugh at, but now he just held his breath, waiting for the other man's reaction.

A sharp intake of breath, followed by spluttering and coughing was the confirmation Alfred got that his plan had succeeded.

Arthur's eyes flickered open and he started coughing more violently.

Alfred shivered at the sight of Arthur's unseeing eyes trying to focus on something but not succeeding, he shook the feeling of uneasy of and grabbed Arthur's hand in an attempt to reassure the other.

"Hey, Arthur. How are you? You really scared me there." Arthur turned his head towards were Alfred's voice was but his eyes focused on a point to the left of his head, making Alfred uncomfortable.

"Alfred?" Arthur's voice was rough and weak and immediately after he spoke he started coughing again.

"Yeah, yeah it's me. Don't talk, just nod or shake your head. Are you okay?"

Arthur slowly nodded his head, which almost made Alfred laugh, "okay" weren't a word he would use to describe Arthur with right now.

"Thats... good." Alfred trailed of, not knowing what to say. He stared down into the face of the man lying on the bed wishing for the clarity to come back into his green eyes. Nothing happened, of course.

As he gripped Arthur's hand harder he noticed that he wasn't as warm as he was before, which had to be a good sign.

Just as Alfred started to feel a little reassured the other man went from coughing lightly to have a full-out coughing fit.

"Arthur! Take it easy, relax! Calm down and just breathe. Please." He patted the other man on his arm, trying to make him feel calmer, but he didn't stop coughing.

It must be due to all the smoke in the city, Alfred thought sadly. There was no fast way to get rid of smoke.

"I'm going to fetch a glass of water, just wait here" As soon as he said it he realised how stupid it sounded, were could Arthur possibly go in this state?

Alfred started walking towards the door as fast as he could, not wanting to leave the coughing man alone.

When he returned with the water the man was still coughing hard and now he noticed a small cry of pain in between the coughs. Oh, right. The rib. Alfred felt the shame rise inside.

He placed the glass on the bed table and turned to Arthur.

"I will help you sit up, okay? Then it will get easier for you to breath and drink, I brought some water for you." England just gave a weak nod.

Alfred propped the other man up against the headboard with some pillows and were about to hand him the glass when he realised that there was no chance that Arthur would be able to hold the glass properly when he was coughing as much as he did.

"I'm going to help you drink the water okay, I don't want to clean up all the water if you spill it out" He then looked down on the bed and realised that it already was drenched due to the earlier bucket. Well, it could always get more drenched, best to make sure that didn't happen.

He helped the other man drink and were surprised that he didn't cough it all up at once.

"Thanks." It was a weak whisper but Alfred was glad to hear him speak. Even thought the idea of England saying "Thanks" was a bit worrying...

"Don't mention it." Alfred said awkwardly. "Don't worry, Francis will be here in..." He glanced at the clock "2 hours. He will know what to do." All he got in response was a pair of eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

Note:

I'm sorry this is so badly written! I don't have time, but I really wanted to write another chapter .

Okay so I got some reviews regarding errors in the last chapter (thanks for the comments!) and here are some answers:

Yes, they are in Americas house, as I said at the beginning, sorry for any misunderstandings.

England's bookshelf is in Americas house because... America doesn't really like to read and England can't fit all his books in his own house, so he puts them in Alfred's! Yeah, that's why... I will try to be more accurate in the future .

England doesn't have a president, but a prime minister. No explanation for that, just me being sloppy :

And this has nothing to do with the riots in England, at all.

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

I would love to hear what you are thinking, that will make me write both faster and better! :D


	7. Chapter 7

**London is burning**

Sorry for the very long wait! Here are at last the last chapter and I really hope you enjoy it. Cheers~

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Chapter 7

Arthur wen't back to sleep after Alfred had made sure that he could breathe properly, discreetly checking on the ribs while he was at it. Alfred sighted in relief at the realization that Arthur probably could sleep without getting another attack, but as a precaution he positioned himself in the chair next to the bed. He called Francis and told him everything that had happened. Francis reaction was enough to leave him proud of himself. After everything that had happened Alfred was exhausted and slumped back deep in the chair thinking that a quick rest couldn't do any harm. As he closed his eyes pictures of a burning London came before his inner vision and he contorted his face in concentration to block out the images. After some time he succeeded in falling in a light slumber that quickly got deeper. His dreams were filled with unsettling pictures of Arthur in the middle of a burning city calling his name disturbingly low and pleading. He tried to reach out to the other man to ease the distress he clearly was in, but no matter how much he tried Arthur was still just out of reach. After a while the pleading got louder and more desperate and Alfred started twisting in his sleep, Why couldn't he help him? When Arthur started screaming his name Alfred bolted awake and stood up breathing hard.

"Arthur! Arthur are you okay?" He yelled reaching for the place were the Englishman had been standing in his dream.

"Alfred... T...thank god..." He heard from the bed. As he looked down he saw Arthur laying at the edge of the bed with his hand reached towards were Alfred sat as if to shake him awake.

"Arthur" Alfred stared down at the other man in bewilderment, still not fully awake.

"I...I...I need s...some new clo...clothes, mine are s...so...oaking wet..t" Arthur stammered looking ashamed.

"Oh" Alfred looked dumbfounded. Off course. He had drenched the other man in cold water and then left him laying in the soaking bed.

"I´m sorry. I totally forgot" He felt his cheeks go red and looked down ashamed, Arthur didn't need a cold on top of the other things. "Can you get up?" He asked the man in the bed.

"Yes, I feel much better, thank you" He looked proud even when he was dressed in wet clothes and had his face stained by both blood and sooth. Alfred looked at the man in admiration as he struggled into a sitting position without showing even the slightest flinch. When Arthur were about to stand Alfred inched closer, ready to catch the other man. Which showed to be a vice decision because seconds later he was holding an Englishman in his arms who was white as a cheat.

"Careful! Don't overdo it" The only answer he got was quick intakes of air and a hard glare. As they moved across the room Alfred noticed that Arthur was shaking ever so slightly.

"Are you sure you're alright?" He asked tentatively.

"Off course I'm sure you idiot" Came the short reply. Alfred just shook his head and kept on slowly supporting the other across the room. When they stood in front of the wardrobe Alfred realized that it would be impossible for the Brit to chance clothes by himself, what with the broken ribs and all. He looked down at the shorter man with a dreadful expression. This wasn't going to be easy.

"So..." He began, feeling more awkward then he'd ever done before in his life, and ever would.

"So what?" The Brit replied grudgingly, but he made no move towards the wardrobe.

"How are we going to do this?" At this Arthur looked up at him and to Alfred's surprise a small smirk spread across the other man's features.

"You will have to help me" Okay Alfred had been wrong, this was the most awkward he had ever felt in his life.

Just as Alfred was about to answer he felt a vibration in his pocket and the song God bless America broke the silence. Alfred glanced at Arthur and then picked the phone up.

"Yeah, hello?"

"Alfred! Is he alright? Why haven´t you called? I called you three times but you never answered! What's going on? He isn't...dead? Is he? Alfred!" Francis voiced streamed from the speaker and Alfred could see Arthur vince at the sound of the Frenchman's voice.

"Calm down Francis, he's fine. Sorry, I forgot to call. I fell asleep" Alfred admitted sheepishly.

"You...fell...asleep..." Francis voice trailed of in a threatening way.

"Yeah, sorry about that... But he's fine, really. He's even up walking now"

"Walking? I don't think that's such a good idea, mon ami" The last bit sounded surprisingly ironic and Alfred flinched. Looking down at Arthur he could see him scowling at he phone with sweat running down his face and Alfred realised that Francis was probably right.

"I know, I know. It's just that I need to get him into some new clothes since I drenched the last ones"

"...Alfred, that was almost two hours ago. Has he been drenched in cold water all that time?"

"Two hours? I just... No... I only closed my eyes. He needed to rest and..."

"You left him in drenched clothes just so you cold sleep?" All the friendliness in Francis voice was gone and Alfred felt himself cringe from the phone.

"Okay, okay, it was bad of me. But I'm making up for it now." He added a laughter at the end that sounded more like a coughing moose than anything else.

"I'm sure you are" Came the icy response. "I will arrive in ten minutes, please keep him alive until then" Alfred sighted in relief when he heard the phone shut at the other end.

"So... where were we?" He turned to look at Arthur who was still staring at his ear with a highly irritated face.

"Arthur...?" Alfred trailed off, noticing the whiteness off the other man's skin, the sweat running down his face and the short gasping breaths. "Are you okay?" He asked for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

"I just need to sit down a wh.." Arthur stopped in the middle of the sentence as his eyes rolled back in his head and his knees buckled.

"Shit!" Alfred yelled as he struggled to catch the other man as he fell. He eased him down on the floor, deciding that the drenched bed wasn't a better option. He felt the other man's forehead and almost cursed out loud when he felt the hotness of it. Had the fire started again? No, it had gone out several hours ago. Then why was he warm? He got the answer when Arthur moaned in his sleep and snivelled loudly. Oh. A cold. Alfred sat back in the chair looking miserable. He had given Arthur, who had just experienced his capital burning, a cold. Fantastic. And Francis would be here any second. He sighted, putting his face in his hands, this wasn't going to be pleasant. He whined loudly as he heard the doorbell ring.


End file.
